Weeks of planning and days of frenzied, rushing around all paid off with a spectacular party for Henrietta. She was wearing a lovely Chanel watch along with some rather fancy jewelry. And, just in case you make the same mistake I made, it is not orange. "...it's tangerine."

Our household, Bob, Terry, and Leopoldo, surrounded The Queen with love.

Doctors George and Brad made sure that top medical advice was available.

Miss Tiffany was splendid and that hair-do added another six inches or so to her stature. I swear she must have been eight feet of Amazonian glamor.

Thankfully, it is South Beach and you can always count on boys in swim suits to be in attendance.

Even the cop-on-duty was gorgeous and happy; being a little tipsy, I ran my finger across his badges and said, "Looks like you've been through some tough campaigns."

We had some fun discussing the theme for next year's 69th birthday. By the end of the day, we were all exhausted and it was generally concluded that we would all withdraw and relax for a while. It seems that most of society doesn't remember how they got home, what time the left, or why that empty pizza box was in the bed.